Both of us, sire, have filled our measure, you
In giving all a prince should give a friend,
I taking what a friend might from a prince.
But now, sire, in my journey of life grown old,
The business of my riches burdens me.
And ’tis by envy augmented; which if you
Be set above the sting of, yet ’tis known
What curse to peace it is. Wherefore I pray,
Let me retire. I crave your helping hand
To ease me of my wealth: that I restore